


I Can See it All Right Now

by smc_27



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: She’s gonna put some expensive scotch in a flask it has no business being in, do her makeup, get dressed, and head uptown to watch her best friend get married to someone who isn’t her.





	I Can See it All Right Now

She stands staring into her closet as though she hasn’t been thinking about what to wear to this thing for the last like, eight months. Which, for most people, maybe isn’t that weird - for whatever reason, weddings are apparently something to freak the fuck out over and plan in advance even when you’re the groom’s third cousin’s boyfriend, or something. Any wedding Santana’s ever gone to, she’s picked something out from her closet or bought something new about a week before and called it good. The way she sees it, someone else’s wedding isn’t anything for _her_ to stress over. 

She rolls her eyes at herself, because she’s learned that’s really, really not true. 

She’s had the invitation stuck to her fridge since it came in the mail. She’s always liked to torture herself. It’s right next to a picture of her and Rachel from a couple years ago when they went to Yosemite because Rachel wanted to see the trees and Santana…

Well, Santana wanted to see Rachel there. 

Fuck. 

She sits down at the edge of her bed, digs her heels into the floor and catches her reflection in the mirror on the back of her closet door. She’s not gonna cry, or anything. She’s gonna put some expensive scotch in a flask it has no business being in, do her makeup, get dressed, and head uptown to watch her best friend get married to someone who isn’t her.

… … …

She honestly wasn’t even going to go. Like, from the second Rachel told her that she was engaged, Santana was basically thinking of what she’d do on the day, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to be there. Honestly, she’s still on the fence as to whether or not it was actually insulting for Rachel to think she’d be happy about this. But that makes her worry that she cares about Rachel more than Rachel cares about her, which is honestly so fucking obvious, but still hard to actually admit. 

Seriously. The woman’s marrying someone else, and Santana’s just trying to keep it together long enough to apply eyeliner evenly.

This is stupid. She honestly doesn’t even know if Rachel’d notice if she wasn’t there. But that’s such a ridiculous thing to think, and Santana recognizes that she’s being a total brat. 

For all her back and forth and stubborn insistence that she wouldn’t put herself through this day, she also knows she cares about Rachel too much to hurt her by now showing up.

She and Rachel haven’t been the same since the engagement, and that’s like, mostly Santana’s fault, if fault is a thing here. She’s pulled back a little, because she honestly thought that this relationship would go like the rest of Rachel’s have. Like, the girl goes all in from 15 mins into the first date and then either the guy gets freaked out, or Rachel starts picking things apart after a few months and ruins an otherwise decent relationship. Not that Santana’s really wanted Rachel to be with people the last few years, but some of Rachel’s reasons were downright idiotic. 

What makes Marek different? Santana can’t put her finger on it. Rachel cut their first date short, cancelled the second, then slept with the guy after he took her to a proper dinner. She still won’t tell Santana what Marek said to her to get her to go home with him after Rachel had literally told Santana there was ‘no chance’ that she’d even see him again. 

Six months later he had a ring on Rachel’s finger and they were moving in together and wanted Santana to help them find a place. 

No fucking thank you.

But like, she did it, because one, she’s a good friend, okay? And two, she’s an even better real estate agent. She found them a nice place on the Upper West because they’ve got _money_ and that’s where Rachel’s always wanted to live, and when the commission check came through, Santana used it to treat herself to a weekend in the Hamptons to unwind from the stress of helping this person she might love shack up with someone else. 

Santana digs her fingernail into the palm of her hand and asks herself again why she’s putting herself through this crap.

It’s not like she could ever say anything, right? Rachel’s always had something going on with someone, despite her always feeling and acting like she’s so unlovable and so undesirable. Since Santana’s known her, the woman’s had one guy or another, and no, they weren’t all winners and they weren’t all good relationships, but they were there. Santana thinks Rachel’s been chasing something since they were in high school. Like, love, and trust, and someone to give her every last bit of spare attention they have. And, really, Santana’s pretty sure that what Rachel’s _actually_ been chasing is someone to replace Finn, and that’s proven difficult or impossible. The latter, she thinks. 

Look, it’s not her fault she caught feelings. There was something - small, tumultuous - when they lived together. She can’t tell you what it was about that whole situation that made her actually notice Rachel as a person she wanted to explore something with. Maybe it was just that it was always there and Santana just didn’t know about it or didn’t care, or didn’t want to talk to Rachel about a single fucking thing. Then all of a sudden they’re living together and Rachel’s like, _cool_ in the city she’s always wanted to be in, and less annoying, and it’s just…

That part was all easy to ignore. That part was like - oh here’s my friend who’s attractive and we share a space and this is nothing. 

It’s when they moved out that things got really weird, because what happened is they _missed_ each other. They started making more of an effort to see each other. Rachel was the one who supported Santana most when she said she wanted to go into real estate and make a shit ton of money. Santana stood by Rachel with every shitty audition, or crap job. And they were both there through all the bad dates, hookups, and messed up relationships. Rachel literally came and picked Santana up in an Uber in Harlem when she got herself into a fucked up situation with this woman who made her feel really fucking uncomfortable.

But this isn’t about _that_ changing. This is about the fact that they were practically _dating_ before Rachel met Marek. 

Look, Santana’s not stupid. Nothing physical ever even really happened. But they were inseparable, mostly. Like, they’d share a bed kind of inseparable. They had a morning routine kind of inseparable. They spent most of their evenings together kind of inseparable. Fuck, the last wedding Santana went to, she went as Rachel’s plus one. 

Santana sits at the edge of her bed and takes a drink of ice cold water, because if she doesn’t stop this line of thinking, she won’t even make it to the damn venue, let alone through enough of the evening to make it seem like she isn’t entirely fucking heartbroken. 

… … …

Maybe she just needs to stop having best friends she’s attracted to. It fucks her up every single time. Like, she’s never actually been close friends with a woman and not gotten herself into some tangled, weird relationship with them, and so far that’s gotten her exactly nowhere. 

She’s standing in her bedroom with her pants on, but unbuttoned, and her black bra on when her phone lights up atop her dresser. It’s Rachel’s dad, saying he can’t wait to see her. 

Fuck. 

The only reason she’s not drinking currently is because if she shows up with a buzz on or smelling like alcohol, she definitely won’t be able to act as well as she’ll need to to get through this day. 

Is it wrong to start now counting down the hours until she’s back home?

… … … 

She checks herself out in the mirror before she leaves her place, and takes off the necklace she’s wearing. She’s got on just diamond studs as jewelry now, but she likes that, too. Besides, Rachel gave her that necklace for her birthday last year and it feels weird to wear it to this thing. Like she likes that that’s just between them, and if Rachel notices she’s wearing it, it’ll be a whole big thing, or something.

Plus, it draws attention to her tits, which she doesn’t really need, because she’s wearing a blazer with nothing underneath and she’s not trying to be trashy. Whatever. This is totally tasteful and fits the dress code for the wedding, so it’s fine. She looks hot and she loves this suit and it’s tailored to fit her perfectly - she knows, because she spent enough on it to make sure it looks exactly how she wants it to. She’s wearing black heels she loves that she actually got second hand but were never really worn before she got them. She has her phone, ID, and credit card in this dark green clutch, drops her lipstick and that little flask inside, takes a deep breath and heads out the door.

Her car’s waiting for her and she thinks the driver’s gonna pass out just looking at her, which is annoying as fuck.

“Where’re you heading?” the driver asks, and Santana doesn’t even look up from her phone. 

Look, she hates this shit, this small talk that some people think they need to do, and she rates drivers accordingly. Especially men. They just don’t know when to leave women the fuck alone sometimes. 

He just lost a star. 

(Maybe she’s being extra petty today.)

“A wedding.” 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, and she cuts him a look in the rear view. She figures he’s being shitty about the fact that she’s wearing pants, or something, and look, pal, today’s not the day to start that shit. 

“Mhm.”

“I got married last year.” Cool. She doesn’t care. “We went to Cancun.” Yeah, he looks like the type who’d do that. “My wife’s got family in South America, so it was a good spot.” 

“That’s nice.”

Maybe she’s a bitch for trying to sound as uninterested and unimpressed as possible, but, well, she never said she wasn’t a bitch. 

Rachel said she wasn’t. That’s a thing Rachel did. She’s maybe actually the only person in the world other than Santana’s own mother who sees through the shit she puts on to keep people at a distance, or...Whatever. Keep them from knowing much about her. Rachel’s known her long enough to read all her tells. Like how when she needs to talk, she usually just shows up without warning. When she’s mad, she works out. When she needs to clear her head, she sits on her fire escape and smokes a cigar. Rachel even knows that when Santana needs to cry, she wants to be alone but doesn’t _actually_ want to be alone. 

Which, honestly, is maybe what makes all this even that much harder. It’s not just that she’s not the one Rachel wants. It’s that Rachel hasn’t even noticed that Santana is struggling so fucking hard with this. They’ve talked about the wedding and Rachel’s said how excited she is to be marrying Marek, to build a life with him, and it’s like a fucking stab in the heart when Rachel says things like that and talks about the things she can’t wait to do with him. Because they’re always, always things that Santana and Rachel used to do together.

“Sorry, I’m just…” She trails off, and he smiles at her in the mirror, shakes his head like he can stop talking and it’s no big deal. “Thanks.”

“All good.” 

He tells her to have a good night as they pull up to the venue, and for a split second, she legitimately considers not getting out. 

She straightens out her jacket and pushes her hair off her face, draws her shoulders back, and heads for the door. No turning back now. 

… … …

She should have brought a date. 

There are a few people here from high school. Mike’s by the bar with his fiance. Quinn’s talking with Rachel’s dads. Tina and her husband are already seated, heads bent towards one another. She actually thinks they’re super cute together, not that she’d say that out loud. Anyway, Tina doesn’t give a shit what Santana has to say about it, or anyone else for that matter. Which is kind of awesome, and Santana actually super admires the way Tina’s grown into this woman who just does what she wants and doesn’t care if anyone else likes it. She got her masters in sociology and works for a publishing company that specialises in academic publications or whatever, and her boyfriend owns a fair trade coffee company that’s somehow considered a tech company and he’s got a shit ton of money.

She’s focusing on them so she doesn’t have to pay attention to Mike, who’s walking towards her. Fuck. She and Mike are close and they know each other really well, and honestly, it’s been sort of killing her to not be able to talk to him about these stupid fucking feelings she has. He’s busy, as well, with work and planning a wedding. Santana likes Clara, too, even though she’s still sort of always a little...she won’t say uncomfortable, but it’s just that she only knows limited ASL and Clara has only partial hearing and Santana doesn’t want to be rude or anything so she’s always on edge, worried that she’s being awful, or something. It’s never happened, but the last thing she wants is to offend anyone. Well, anyone she likes. 

But then Mike just hugs her, and Clara does, too, and Santana lets out a breath when he asks how she’s doing. 

She sort of wishes just one single person here who understood what she’s dealing with today.

She finds a seat at the back, away from everyone she knows well enough to care if they see her cry, or whatever. She also steals another sip from her flask, just a small one, and then the doors are opening at the back of the room and everyone stands. 

Rachel looks so fucking _happy_ that Santana digs her fingernails into her palm again and tries to keep it together.

… … …

The vows are nice enough, if you’re in to that sort of thing. Rachel insisted they write their own, which is a shock to absolutely no one in this place. Santana actually chuckles when Rachel’s dad (he’s her man of honour) passes her a stack of cue cards and she flips her hair over her shoulders and puts on her performance stance and it ends up all being a total joke. Marek lifts her hand and kisses it, which is sort of sweet, she guesses. And then he says sweet things about Rachel in his vows, and it’s all very lovely except for the fact that Santana feels like she can’t breathe. 

She could get up right now and stop this whole fucking thing, but, ya know, it wouldn’t make a difference and all it would get her is a bunch of looks and a hundred people thinking she’s insane. 

She sits still in her seat next to this complete stranger who’s crying next to her. He hands her a tissue and she realizes there are tears on her own cheeks.

… … …

They almost kissed just once. 

Or, really, Santana almost kissed Rachel just once. 

It was about a month before Rachel met Marek. They were hanging out at Santana’s place, in her bed, eating pizza and rewatching Brooklyn Nine Nine on Netflix, sort of chatting over it because they’ve both seen the whole series a couple times. Santana had gone out on a date a few nights before that was truly terrible, and Rachel was offering advice.

“You deserve better. You’re _owed_ better. You’re too good for all these women.” Her voice had gotten all quiet and she’d said, “Sometimes I think I’m the only one who sees that.” 

Santana was just looking at her, and her heart was racing, and then Rachel turned her head a little and Santana leaned in just a little, and Rachel took a sharp intake of breath and then the moment was over and…

Watching Marek place his hands on Rachel’s cheeks and kiss her in front of all these people is just so jarringly removed from that, that Santana has to remind herself to clap like everyone else is. 

Rachel catches her eye as she’s walking back down the aisle with her husband, and the smile on the woman’s face makes Santana want to take back every time she held everything in. 

… … …

The reception’s in the same place, just a different room, and Santana drops her card with cash - and a charitable donation notice, as per Rachel’s request - into the box on the gift table. Why anyone would actually purchase and wrap an item instead of giving money or gift cards is totally beyond Santana’s comprehension. 

Someone presses a glass of champagne into her hand, puts their hand at the small of her back, and she turns to see Quinn standing there next to her. 

Fuck. The last wedding they were at together, they totally…

“You look like you need this,” Quinn says, and gives Santana this look like maybe she knows more than she should. She’s probably just being paranoid.

“Thanks.” 

“Are you okay?” 

It’s a whisper, and Santana can’t decide if she loves or hates that. 

“I’m totally fine. You?”

Because of all the people in the world she could talk to about her actual emotions, it’s not going to be fucking Quinn Fabray.

Quinn puts on that fake smile she literally taught them all when they were cheerleaders, straightens up her back and shrugs her shoulder, looks out over the crowd in the room. 

“Marek’s brother’s cute.” 

Santana takes a long sip of champagne and rolls her eyes. “Go for it.” 

She walks away because the conversation was annoying her, but if nothing else, it served as a reminder that she’s doing a piss poor job of making it look like she’s _fine_ , and she needs to get it together.

Marek’s mother introduces herself, says she’s heard so much about Santana from Rachel and that she’d love to get to know her a little more. She’s also a realtor, just in Atlanta instead of New York, and she says she thinks they have a lot in common. Santana doesn’t want to laugh, but she also can’t exactly say out loud that she knows the woman’s been in a relationship with a woman since after Marek’s dad died eight years ago. 

Whatever. You don’t treat queer elders like shit. You just don’t. 

“She looks really beautiful,” Marian says, and Santana nods, even though Rachel’s not in the room to look at, at the moment. “She was worried the veil was too much, but I kept on telling her it was just perfect.” 

Santana smiles a genuine smile and sips her drink. She fucking _knows_ how much Rachel loves that veil and she was absolutely just fishing for a compliment, and that is just so like her. 

“She’s got good taste,” Santana says quietly, and she figures she ought to be charming with Rachel’s new mother-in-law. “Look who she married.” 

Marian makes a sound and pats Santana on the arm, says she’ll catch up with her later, and fuck, Santana’d really love something with more kick than champagne, but before she can sneak away to the hallway to have a sip from her flask, they’re announcing the newlyweds and fuck, you know what? 

Rachel’s smile is totally contagious.

… … … 

Look, it’s not that all they talked about leading up to this thing was the wedding, but Santana knew just about every detail before she walked into the venue. It’s no surprise to her that the food is as good as it is, because she helped Rachel finalize the menu. Honestly, partly to make sure Rachel didn’t do those stupid mini macarons for ‘dessert’, as if one bite of fucking sugar counts as a dessert. 

Anyway. She’s sitting here at this table with everyone who’s here who knows anything about living in Lima, basically, save for Rachel’s parents and her aunt, who she’s always been close to, who’s seated at a table with a bunch of Marek’s family.

Mike brings Santana a glass of scotch or whiskey or bourbon or something, sets his hand on her shoulder as he puts the glass down on the table right next to her hand. She should stop drinking, but then again, no one is stopping drinking, and she’ll just pace herself from here on out and it’ll be just fine. Tina’s husband is talking with Santana about real estate, and she’s schmoozing a bit because she’s honestly always on the hustle for new clients and he’s got enough cash to be a good one. He’s currently renting, but owns a place in Boston because that’s where he’s from, and is thinking about selling that and getting something here.

Santana picks at her mirror-glazed chocolate mousse once he turns back to Tina, and then Quinn’s talking about something stupid and inconsequential, and Santana gets a little lost in thought. The colour of this glaze is flawless and matches perfectly the flowers Rachel’s been carrying. She said she wanted to go untraditional and do moody florals and dark colours that would look good against her skin in photos. 

Looks good in person, too. 

Rachel and Marek are at the head table, heads bent together as Rachel holds a fork in her hand and dabs her napkin against her lip. 

She needs air.

Santana picks up her plate, grabs the glass Mike brought her, leaves her clutch at the table and heads for the old vintage elevator that’ll take her up to the roof of this place. She’s been here before. Fuck, she came with Rachel when she was searching for venues. 

Rachel’s dad is up here stealing some pulls off a cigarette, which is a habit his daughter hates and Santana is one of only a few people who know about. He looks for a second like he’s been caught red-handed, mutters, “Dammit,” and almost goes to put the cigarette out. He sees that it’s just her, smiles, and brings it to his lips again. 

Yeah, he knows by know she’s not gonna rat him out. 

Not if he shares with her, anyway.

Hiram puts his arm around her, kisses her hair as she sets her plate down on the wide railing at the edge of the roof. 

“How’re you, kiddo?” Santana shrugs, reaches for the cigarette. Hiram laughs loudly and hands it to her. “What’d you think?” 

She narrows her eyes in thought as she takes a drag, and dammit that feels good. “It was perfect, just how she wanted it.” 

He sets his hand on the railing, his own wedding ring reflecting city lights in a way that’s almost obnoxious. “I like him.” Santana looks down, blows smoke from her mouth and tries to pass the cigarette back to him, but he shakes his head. “I wish I knew him better.” Oh. Fuck. That’s gotta be...She doesn’t know what to do with that, to be honest. “I can’t shake the feeling I just don’t know this person my daughter’s marrying. Married to.”

Santana sips her drink, uses her hand that’s holding the cigarette because she’s always liked the way that looks. 

“He’s good, Hiram,” she says, because honest to god, more than anything she just wants everyone in this family to feel good about today. Despite her own feelings and opinions and fucking _heartbreak_ , it’s just really important to her. “He’s good for her.” 

Hiram cuts her a look from the corner of his eye. 

“As good as you?”

Santana looks up at him too quickly, which she figures probably gives her away, but she can’t take it back. 

She stubs out the cigarette, and then his arm’s around her again like he’s trying to comfort her, or something, and she continues eating her dessert there with him and they’re both silent. 

… … …

Rachel couldn’t settle on a song for their first dance, but when Santana suggested they just don’t do that stupid tradition, Rachel’d looked at her like she was fucking insane. Santana also suggested a few options for letting other people pick the song, but it was explained to her that Rachel in no way trusted anyone else to pick the song she and her husband would dance to for the first time. So what she did instead is sit with Marek - thank fuck Santana wasn’t there for this - and put together a list of like 30 songs. The plan was to just press shuffle and whatever song comes up is their first dance song. 

Santana’s standing by the bar when Rachel and Marek take the floor and the first chords start to play. They look happy and smitten and Marek uses his thumb to wipe a tear from under Rachel’s eye and she lets out this little laugh and leans up to kiss him and Santana just…

She wants to say she feels numb, but it’s not even that. It’s more like a surge of adrenalin, or something, that will get her to the end of tonight so she can crash later. 

Mike’s walking towards her once the song changes and the floor opens, and Santana rolls her eyes even as she’s smiling. He holds out his hand and she puts hers in his because it’s not like she can say no. She finds it a bit weird that he’s gonna dance with her before dancing with his fiancée, but whatever. The guy loves to dance and he’s good at it, and she doesn’t doubt that he’ll dance with almost every woman in this place, including Rachel, before the night’s through. 

She doesn’t even hate slow dancing with him. Which is weird, because slow dancing is _lame_ but Mike knows how to do it properly, so maybe that makes it better. 

“You know, you didn’t have to do us all like this,” he says after a few moments. People are watching them. Rachel and Marek are watching them. Santana’s confused by his statement, though, and asks what the hell he’s talking about. “You _would_ wear a nicer suit than any guy at this thing.” 

It makes her laugh, throw her head back and everything. And god, if that wasn’t probably exactly what he was going for. 

“You’re next,” Santana says, and Mike smiles like he can’t wait to be married, or something. He and Clara are doing it in Lima, at Mike’s parents’ house, which makes sense because it’s gorgeous and apparently Clara’s family mostly lives in California, so they’ll be travelling anyway. 

“You’ll come, right?” She smiles at him, nods. She hasn’t received an invite yet. She’s honestly happy to have made the cut. He keeps saying how small the thing’s gonna be. “You think you’ll ever get married?”

This conversation’s way too fucking real.

Look, it’s not like she thought she’d get married to Rachel. That’s not what this is about. It’s just that she, herself, feels so fucking far away from all this that it doesn’t even seem like an option. Like, even if she met someone tomorrow that she liked enough to date, it’d be a couple years before even thinking about tying the knot, if that’s even something she wants, which frankly, she never thought it was. 

“I dunno.” Mike just smiles like he thinks she’s saying that to avoid answering the question. He then spins her around, pulls her back in, and once her hand is settled below his shoulder blade again, she lets out a breath. “Can I tell you something?” He must pick up on how serious it is, because he furrows his brow, nods, and doesn’t say anything. “It’s...You take this to the grave, Mike.” 

Yeah, she’s begging. Threatening. Something. 

He smiles sadly. 

Oh, fuck. Maybe he already…

“I have feelings for her.” There’s a lump in her throat as soon as she says it, and Mike squeezes her hand, nods again, and takes a deep breath, looks her right in the eye like he’s prompting her to do the same. 

She fucking loves him, honestly. He’s not making this a big thing, though he knows it is one, and he’s genuinely trying to help her keep her shit in check so she doesn’t have to deal with people asking what’s wrong or why she’s emotional.

He pulls her a little closer as the song switches. He should really find someone else to dance with. He just rubs his hand over her back a couple times, and says, “It’s okay,” and for a split second, she thinks he might be right.

… … …

Maybe it’s tacky to leave before the bride and groom, but it’s getting late and people are starting to head out, and Santana is just really, really wanting to be at home. Or alone. Both, preferably. She’s done her share of dancing, and she ate the cake and chatted with friends and even ended up sitting with Marek’s mom and her partner for a while, chatting and getting to know them, and she just…

The one person she hasn’t talked to is Rachel. Hell, she even saw Marek coming back from the washroom and he gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and she complimented him on his new hardware and held his left hand in hers for a minute. 

He told her that it meant a lot that she was there. She’s spent the last hour wondering how much he and Rachel have talked about her.

He smiles when Santana approaches the table he’s sitting at alone with Rachel, gets up out of his seat and pulls it out for Santana. As if she needs that fucking symbolism or whatever the fuck right now. 

Rachel reaches for her hands immediately, and before Santana can say anything, says, “I’m so glad you came.” 

“Where else would I have been?” Santana laughs, tries to play it off, and Rachel’s lips curve and she looks down at their hands. She’s taken her veil off and Santana now sees that she’s slipped her feet out of her shoes, too. Her toenails are polished blood red. She manages to get out, “Congratulations,” before she feels like her voice won’t work. 

What Rachel says in response is, “You look really beautiful,” and it’s so sincere and so...Santana can’t honestly understand why Rachel would say it, or say it _like that_. 

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Rachel shakes her head. “People have been telling me all day. It’s lost all meaning.” She lets out this little giggle that makes Santana smile. They’re still holding hands. “I should have known you’d wear something this stunning. I don’t know why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

“Gotta keep people on their toes.” Rachel rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna head out, I just wanted to…”

“What did Mike say to you earlier?” Santana wasn’t expecting the interruption. She blinks. “When you were dancing. What were you talking about?” 

And this is it, right? This is the time when she could spill everything. Tell Rachel everything. She could start from the top and tell her all the times she’s felt like _they_ could be a thing. She could say how she feels even if it wouldn’t change anything. At least Rachel would know, right? But that’s the thing. It _wouldn’t_ change anything. The longer she sits here, the more it sinks in that even if Rachel knows, it won’t matter. She’s fucking married. And even if Santana had said something before now, it wouldn’t have meant anything and their friendship might have suffered or not made it through at all. At least this way, Santana’s the only one who knows and it’s up to her and now she can just deal with it alone and move on and nothing has to get all fucked up. 

But she still says, “You,” because it’s the truth and even if she’s running out of chances, she’s still going to push right up against the line. 

Rachel tilts her head. “You looked upset.”

Santana lets out a breathy laugh and looks down at their hands, at the rings Rachel’s now sporting. They’re really gorgeous; Marek did a good job.

“I’m really happy for you.” 

“Santana.” It’s quiet, this little whisper, and it’s probably because Santana hasn’t said those words. Not when Rachel said she’d gone out with Marek, or slept with him, or was dating him, or was engaged to him. She’s never said it. It doesn’t even feel like a lie, really. 

“He asked if I’d ever get married. Your stupid party’s got me all in my feelings.” 

It’s an inside joke. When she was helping Rachel plan this wedding, she kept calling it a party and Rachel kept getting pissed at her. 

Rachel bumps her shoulder against Santana’s, laughs, and then rests her head there. “It’s been a good party.” Santana chuckles. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Sure you could’ve.”

Rachel pulls away again, takes her hands back and turns in her chair a bit to face Santana. The skirt of her dress pushes up against Santana’s legs. “I wouldn’t have wanted to.” Santana pauses, thinks about that, then nods, because she gets it. She does. Rachel smiles again, and Marek’s coming back towards them. “You’re coming to brunch tomorrow, right? You’ll be there?”

And Santana laughs - at herself, really - and looks down at her lap before looking back at Rachel again. 

God, if she can make it through this thing, brunch is going to be a fucking walk in the park. 

“I’ll be there. Can I bring anything?”

Rachel raises her brow. “Refill that flask I’ve seen you stealing sips from all night. Don’t say anything, but Marek’s aunts are absolutely insane and keep saying they’ve planned a surprise. I’m terrified. I’ll need the courage.”

Santana finds a genuine smile’s creeping across her lips. She nods her head, says, “You got it, babe.”

She stands when Marek is back at the table. 

She says, “Seat’s all yours,” and shares one last look with Rachel before she walks away.

She leaves before anyone else can ask her how she’s doing.


End file.
